


Highwayman

by MissAnonWrites



Category: Loki - Fandom
Genre: F/M, Loki as highwayman, Tom Hiddleston Loki, silliness
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-10
Updated: 2014-07-10
Packaged: 2018-02-08 05:16:56
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,861
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1928031
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MissAnonWrites/pseuds/MissAnonWrites
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Original character's carriage is held up by a highwayman, however it's not the kind of hold-up she was expecting</p>
            </blockquote>





	Highwayman

__________________________

"Stand and deliver!"

The carriage jolted with a fierce jerk, sending me tumbling forward into the rounded black leather seating in front of me.

Adjusting my hat as I sat back up on my seat, I heard my driver half-heartedly attempt to send the scoundrel away. Seemingly to no avail, as I heard words continue to be exchanged.

My mother had told me about highwaymen - cowardly thieves who held up carriages on deserted roads to steal their money (and any choice jewelry). As a child I had even enjoyed reading stories about these land-pirates, who often wore black eye masks and capes.

Never could I have dreamt that I would find myself in this situation - soon to be threatened (and probably frisked) by a common outlaw.

I heard the sounds of punches being exchanged, then a loud gunshot rang out in the dark, and the carriage jolted forward a little while my horse whineyed.

I couldn’t help but scream, then suddenly brought my hands to my lips as if to retract the sound. Now this madman would surely attack me!

I yelped again as the carriage door next to me quickly opened, and I saw my assailant - a tall man dressed in careworn black clothes, including a raggedy cape. A black leather belt snaked around his lean hips, a pistol in its holder.

A strip of black material was tired around his head, with eye holes torn into it. Beneath this material I could see the very tip of his nose, his thin lips which were apart as he panted, his angular pale jaw slack.

He leaned against the carriage doorway, shoulders hunched over, gazing at me with piercing green eyes.

His gaze dropped briefly, and he bit his lip before looking back at me warily.

 ”I wasn’t expecting to find such a beaut back here, Madame,” he said in a low voice.

"Well," I huffed, not knowing what to say or do or think.

His eyes roved over my lips, down my throat towards mother’s gold necklace that hung down between my collar bones.

He reached out a gloved hand to touch it. My body tensed at the motion.

"Ssh," he breathed, "I’m not going to hurt you."

I looked away, tears beginning to form in my eyes.

"Please don’t steal my necklace," I said weakly. "It’s my mothers."

I felt his smooth the pad of his thumb along my right collar bone. “I won’t,” came his reply.

Sniffing, I turned back to face him. “What did you do to Jenson?” I feared he had… murdered my driver.

The rogue leant away from the carriage, staggering back a little, and folded his arms across his chest, dipping his head. “Why don’t you come and see for yourself?”

Frowning, I gingerly began to step out of the carriage, gathering my skirts in my hands as I went. I suddenly found the highwayman deftly at my side, a gloved hand supporting my elbow as I stepped onto the muddy road. His breath was close at my ear, his gaze intense on my face.

I felt the most curious of sensations. Part of me felt afraid, and rightly so! Yet part of me felt flushed and… well, the sort of feelings one should not have towards a man of disrepute. And a stranger no less.

He cleared his throat and gestured towards the front of the carriage. Carefully, I walked forwards and peeked to find Jenson splayed out across his seat, one foot dangling over the edge, the horse’s reins in disarray.

Though I daresay Rushkin the horse seemed at ease, nodding his head next to the highwayman’s horse.

"Jenson?" I whispered, and stepped closer. There didn’t seem to be any sign of blood and… yes, Jenson was breathing, his large chest rising and falling under his tight drivers coat.

"What did you do to him?" I whipped my head around and caught the eye of the highwayman, who was kicking pebbles along the roadside into a straight line.

"I fired my gun into the air and he feinted," he answered simply, not looking up at me.

"Were you going to kill him? Would you have shot him?" I wrung my hands, my lace gloves suddenly feeling itchy and soggy against my sweating palms.

The highwayman stopped his musing, and stood still, glaring at me, his hands on his hips.

"Oh come on, madame. Do I really look like that sort of person?"

I wanted to laugh. Standing there, in his cape, a gun at his side, in a mask - yes, of course he looks like he could shoot someone!

He strode purposefully towards me, frowning. “What is so funny?”

I shook my head, trying to calm myself. “I am sorry Sir, it is simply that… you DO look as one might who would do dreadful things.”

He folds his arms crossly, and looks down at me. I swallow.

"But of course, I’m sure not terribly dreadful things. It’s just the mask, is all. Most people do not wear masks, unless it is to certain balls…"

He takes a step closer to me, backing me up towards the carriage.

"So… umm… I suppose you want me to give you some money…? Only, my purse is in the carriage, so perhaps I should get it…"

As I turn to head towards the carriage door, he blocks my path, his tall lean figure resting against the side of the carriage.

"I do not need your money, my lady," he states calmly, and for the first time I notice how well spoken he is. I feel quite confused.

"Then what DO you want? I don’t have much else on me." My shoulders slump. "Oh please don’t take Rushkin! He’s been in our family for years! Your horse looks just as strong and beautiful! Here, you can take my hat instead - that should be worth a few guineas," I begin untying my bonnet, and hear him chuckle quietly, which makes me stop.

I throw my hat on the ground at his feet in a temper. “This is not funny! I’m being held up by an armed highwayman and all you can do is laugh! How would you like it if you were on your way home and I stopped your carriage, made your driver feint then try to take your hat?”

The madman roars with laughter and bends over, his hands on his knees to support himself.

I shriek in frustration and stomp into the carriage, slamming the door behind me.

Ridiculous man.

I shall wait here until Jenson comes around, then he can drive me home.

It starts to get quiet outside. Well, at least that ruffian has composed himself. Fancy laughing at a woman in distress like that.

_Tap tap tap_

I squeal, reeling back into my seat.

Cursed man is knocking at the carriage door.

"Please go away," I say as firmly as I can.

I hear him sigh. “Please let me take you home.”

I open the little shutter-window, to find him smirking at me. “Or would you rather wait it out? Looks like your driver is happily in the land of nod… you won’t be going anywhere for a while, it seems.”

"Don’t jest with me, highwayman!" I scold, and slam the shutter-window closed.

_______________________ 

The last half hour has been difficult. I can’t decide whether to accept his offer, or to continue to wait it out.

Waiting is very dull.

I hear the highwayman whistling somewhere near the front of the carriage. Lord knows what he’s up to.

I wind the shutter-window back down and see him stroking Rushkin’s mane.

"You!" I call out, and he saunters over, mocking me with a low bow.

"I want answers." I hug my shawl tighter about my shoulders. He peers in through the shutter-window.

"I will give them to you. No need to hide."

He swings the door open, holding it for me, standing erect and proper as Jenson normally would do. I grumble as I get out again.

"Why did you hold up my carriage?"

He clasps his hands behind his back and rocks back on his heels, exhaling sharply. “I was bored.”

"Bored?!"

He holds up one gloved hand in appeasement. “Yes, bored.”

"But that’s no reason to scare me out of my wits! Nor make poor Jenson feint!"

He takes a step closer, biting his lip.”Well, I suppose it was a bit naughty…”

"A bit naughty!"

"… but quite harmless. Honestly. Look here," he takes the gun from its holster and I flinch, stepping back. He holds it out to me.

"It’s not a real gun. Not really. It fires out dirt and makes a loud noise, but that is all."

I crinkle my nose as I take the heavy metal object from him. It certainly looks like a gun, but I know not of these things. He may be telling the truth, or maybe not.

"What mad man holds up carriages late at night with a… fake gun just because he’s bored?"

He raises his hands to the back of his head and unties the black scarf.

And oh his face is handsome.

"I live a privileged life, my lady. One of prestige, and also strict convention. The monotony of my life leaves little room for adventure."

He sighs, dropping the scarf to the floor by his muddied boots.

"And so every now and then I come to the forests and highways to pretend to hold up carriages." He smiles sadly, his gaze at the floor.

It is silent. I do not know what to say. Poor chap - having to resort to such silly games…

I exhale loudly. “Are you honest? Are you true?”

Our eyes meet, and I see softness mixed with loneliness. He simply nods.

"Then you may escort me home, and tell me more about yourself as you do so."

____________________________

I watch him tie his horse’s reins to Rushkin’s so they can trot side by side, then see him laboriously lower Jenson from his driver’s bench and drag him into the carriage. The highwayman then offers me his hand, and helps me up to the drivers seat to sit next to him. He takes the reins and effortlessly begins to steer us on our way.

We sit in silence for a moment. I wonder what would be best to say to break it…

"My lady…," he begins, glancing at me. "Now the charade has been dropped, we must introduce ourselves. Tell me, what is your name?"

I tell him, and he then offers me his hand to shake. His fingers firmly envelope my hand, warmly holding it for a few moments, before reluctantly letting go.

"Now you must tell me your name, highwayman. It is only fair."

He clears his throat. “Only if you can keep it a secret.”

I raise an eyebrow. “Since you are driving me home, I think I can keep ONE secret.”

"Then let me shake your hand again, Madame," he takes my hand, holding it this time, not letting me pull away. He looks sideways at me, opening his mouth to speak, before sighing softly.

"I’m Prince Loki of Asgard." 

 


End file.
